


Urahara's Fight Club

by zephfair



Category: Bleach
Genre: Bad Touching, Fight training kind of violence, Gen, Humor, Pre-Grimmjow/Ichigo, Pre-Relationship, Rated T for Grimmjow’s potty mouth, Urahara is the worst troll, a gift fic for Jukebox Symphony, for making several of these wonderful tags, i’m grateful to the original author, just awful humor really, vulgar humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 05:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13652472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zephfair/pseuds/zephfair
Summary: Grimmjow’s training with the pervert shopkeeper and the freaky cat scares him more than anything else, but the end result might just be worth it.A gift fic of a scene from Jukebox Symphony.





	Urahara's Fight Club

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murderlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Jukebox Symphony](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312412) by [murderlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/pseuds/murderlight). 



> This is a fanfic for the phenomenal [Jukebox Symphony](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10312412/chapters/22800764) by [murderlight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/murderlight/pseuds/murderlight) and won’t make any sense if you haven’t read that amazing fic because it takes place before the action there. So, forget this story and do yourself a favor--you must go read Jukebox Symphony! I wrote this because I was inspired by one paragraph in chapter 5 that just made me cackle so hard. I know I didn’t do Grimmjow justice, but I hope it makes you smile!

Grimmjow took a deep, steadying breath, clenching then relaxing his fists. 

He could do this. He _would_ do this. 

He straightened his back, rolling and popping one shoulder, and shook out the tension in his neck. He tried a usual snarl but it came out more of a whine than he would’ve liked.

What the fuck was the matter with him? He’d done worse. He’d done so much worse. He’d faced worse. He’d beaten worse. He’d had his ass handed to him by worse. He’d stood before that butterfly-fucker Aizen and had the balls big enough to mouth off. He’d had his arm hacked off and he’d still had the courage to go after … that one asshole shinigami who wouldn’t get out of his head.

He was Grimmjow motherfucking Jaegerjaques and he _would_ do this.

He dropped through the trap door and almost tried to claw his way back up against gravity when a guitar wailed and a male voice shrieked _“WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE….. WE’VE GOT FUN AND GAAAAMES….”_

Grimmjow determinedly didn’t wince as he landed directly in front of Kisuke and folded his arms over his chest in a show of nonchalance.

“Isn’t this song a little on the nose?” he said in a voice he hoped showed exactly how fucking little he gave a shit about Kisuke, their training and the gods-awful music.

Kisuke shrugged slightly and grinned. “It wasn’t my choice, but it did seem appropriate.”

“Because I’m—”

“Because I like it,” the voice purred in his ear just as it felt like two full water balloons slapped into his back, freezing him in place as a sleek arm curled up around his shoulder.

“Oh no, no you didn’t say anything about _her_ joining us.” Grimmjow wanted to step away but he knew from all too-personal experience that Yoruichi could cling with the best of them.

“I didn’t think you’d mind a little extra hands-on training,” she breathed in his ear as her arm tightened and her breasts rubbed a little harder.

“I thought we’d have a nice cozy threesome,” Kisuke tittered, the sound even more ridiculous because he didn’t have his asinine fan to hide behind.

Those were three words Grimmjow had hoped never to hear from that mouth, in that order. He swallowed and snapped with some of his usual arrogance, “If we’re gonna fight, then let’s do it.”

“Let’s get it on.” Yoruichi’s sharp teeth nipped the top of his ear before she let go and flash-stepped to stand beside Kisuke. Both of them stared at Grimmjow with anticipation then licked their lips simultaneously.

_Welcome to the jungle, Watch it bring you to your kneeees, I wanna watch you bleed_

Grimmjow was almost sure that the music was blaring loud enough to drown out his whimper.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Grimmjow would never admit it—not under torture, not under threat of pain or death, not even if it was Kurosaki looking up at him from under those thick eyelashes, licking his perfect lips and just begging Grimmjow to tell him then take him as hard as he could. In a fight, of course—but the two were easily among the best fighters he’d ever gone up against, if not _the_ best. Shinigami, ex-Shinigami, whatever the fuck label they wanted to use now, they were fucking amazing fighters.

Kisuke preferred to strike fast and hard, using all his force in a directed frontal attack. Yoruichi had perfected her moves with flash-step to attack from the rear while he was distracted. Each one was overflowing with power and energy but together they were truly formidable, having had decades to hone their style of fighting together.

As much as he sometimes feared for his virtue and all the uncomfortable teasing he was forced to tolerate, Grimmjow knew, deep down, that he loved it. Fighting was his bread and butter, his first love, his reason for existing, and going up against such opponents was a thrill that could only make him stronger. 

He countered and parried, he attacked and slashed, grinning wildly all the while. Keeping up with the two didn’t allow much time for idle talk, but the occasional grunt was enough to voice his appreciation.

He lost track of how many obnoxious 80s power ballads shook the underground training chamber as they battled. He could have been fighting for his life for minutes or hours, time lost all relevance. 

All he was sure of was how hard he was panting and drowning in his own sweat as the action halted for a moment when Kisuke blocked an admittedly wild punch at his abdomen. He somehow pushed Grimmjow’s hand up into the air where it was seized by Yorichi behind him who used the momentum to pull him into a headlock.

He gasped for air and clawed at her arm as she slowly choked him.

“You know,” he heard Kisuke’s conversational tone from what seemed like miles away, “there is one thing that you haven’t let me do and I’m just dying to try it.”

Grimmjow forced his eyes open and panted, “You die if you try it, you depraved, nosy cat fucker.”

“Now, now Grimmjow, we’ve been over that.”

Grimmjow knew what Kisuke was trying to do so he renewed his attempt to break out of Yoruichi’s hold. She just shifted a little, forcing his head back and making his chest arch out, just the way Kisuke would have wanted.

“You’re both sick. This is non-consensual,” he ground out and strained to look down where Kisuke bent over, pushing up his shirt and peering at his Hollow hole. When one long finger reached out eagerly, Grimmjow spit out, “Bad touch!” and kneed him in the chin.

It wasn’t as hard as if he could have put all his power behind it, but it was enough to make Kisuke’s head snap back and Yoruichi chuff out a laugh.

Kisuke clutched at his mouth and mumbled something that might have translated as “You made me bite my tongue.”

“Good, I hope you bit it off. Teach you to keep it to yourself, you shitty freak.” Grimmjow used the second laugh from Yoruichi to shift his weight and finally buck her off. He gasped for a deep breath and rubbed at his neck while trying to keep both of them in sight in front of him.

“That wasn’t very nice, Grimmjow-san,” Kisuke lisped a little as he chided, probably from the tongue wound.

“Hey, we’ve been over this, you giant douchebag. No honorifics.” Mostly because Grimmjow refused to call anyone—human, Hollow, Shinigami, but especially dirty fighting cat fuckers with shitty perversions—with a courtesy title. 

“Very well. Shall we go again?” Kisuke was already unsheathing his zanpakuto and Grimmjow thumbed the guard of Pantera, freeing it an inch from the sheath.

“Let’s make it a little more...interesting, shall we?” Yoruichi’s smile was nearly as suspicious as a house cat who’d just burped up a feather.

“I’m not letting either one of you violating asshats touch my hole,” Grimmjow said flatly.

“How about we make it a competition? Whoever is wearing the most clothes at the end, wins.” 

Grimmjow looked from her form-fitting, sparse outfit to Kisuke’s multiple layers then down to his own tank top and jeans. “You lose already,” he informed her.

Her grin sharpened and Kisuke gave a little wave. “Now, now I’m sure we can find a way where we all can...win.”

Somehow, Grimmjow thought, them leering at him made him feel so much more naked than standing around unclothed, dick out, in the middle of a busy street.

“Fine. Bring it,” he challenged, and the fight was on again.

Grimmjow prided himself that he was obviously no little pussy, otherwise he would have shrieked repeatedly and clutched at the scraps of his clothes as they fluttered to the ground. 

If he’d thought Yoruichi was fast before, she must have found another gear. She darted in, clawing deep gouges through the front of his shirt. While he blocked her, Kisuke struck, blade flicking through one shoulder of his tank top. When Yoruichi flickered away then attacked from behind, Grimmjow was too busy parrying Kisuke’s sword away from his belt, he couldn’t sonido out of the way in time. Yoruichi’s agile hands grabbed the back of the top and yanked, pulling the shreds off him.

Grimmjow ground his teeth and fought harder. But he couldn’t get one step ahead of them anymore, and it was all he could do to defend. Kisuke’s blade, sharper than any razor, sliced repeatedly at his jeans, leaving more holes than a Swiss cheese. One cut came dangerously close to his balls and he yelped involuntarily, hand reaching down hurriedly to check.

“I’m sorry, Grimmjow. It wouldn’t do to have you neutered now, would it?” Kisuke gave him a little finger wave and Grimmjow roared.

Somehow, he found the strength to fight faster. He managed to knock off that shitty hat and made sure to stamp on it several times while it was underfoot. He tore off Yoruichi’s scarf with his bare hand as she flash-stepped past. Her skintight clothing was difficult to cut without actually running her through—and as much as he was ready to do that at this point, Grimmjow still couldn’t quite manage it. Kisuke’s loose clothing gave him more opportunity to vent his frustrations and slash away at them until they had a decidedly ragged appearance.

Then, somehow, Kisuke’s front assault disarmed him and coincided perfectly with Yoruichi’s flank attack and they went down in a mass of flailing arms—Grimmjow, grabbing hands—Kisuke, and squeezing fingers—Yoruichi. 

Grimmjow was never sure which one got a hand closed over his dick, rubbing it appreciatively, while another hand massaged and kneaded the hard muscle of his ass.

“Enough!” he screamed and extricated himself from the pile to jump to his feet. The quick movement caught up to him and he bent over a little, trying to catch his breath and shake off the feeling of vertigo. “No means no, you perverted dipshits.”

“Ah, and here we thought we could persuade you,” Kisuke had rolled onto his side and was gazing up at Grimmjow but didn’t seem in a hurry to get up from his lounge on the ground. He also wasn’t visibly out of breath, Grimmjow noticed with great disgust.

“Not with a thousand condoms, not if you were the last dick and the last tits on earth. Or Hueco Mundo,” he added, for effect.

“What about Soul Society?” Kisuke asked and Grimmjow growled in a long rumble.

“That’s cold,” Yoruichi told him as she sat up and pulled at her ponytail to straighten it. “You’d feel a lot better if you loosened up. Want to join us in the hot springs?”

Grimmjow was even angrier to see that there wasn’t a mark on her clothing. He looked down at his bare chest and the remnants of his jeans which were really not much more than shorts at that point. He kicked free the leg of one that was puddled sadly at his boot top.

The other two grinned appreciatively, and he shivered, and purposefully didn’t wrap his arms around himself.

“You lost, it seems, but it was a spirited effort,” Kisuke informed him.

Grimmjow grunted and turned to stalk away when he heard what Kisuke went on to say. He whipped around and yelled, “What? You better not be joking, you fucker.”

“I wouldn’t joke about that,” Kisuke assured him. “But perhaps you have strengthened and improved far enough that you’ll be able to handle it. I think, perhaps, it is time for you to try on the gigai.”

“Yes,” Grimmjow couldn’t stop his smile.

“There will be a lot to remember and adjust to,” Kisuke warned him. “This model is very special and has been custom fit and tailored just for you.”

Now Grimmjow eyed him warily, a horrible thought hitting him for the first time. “You didn’t do anything skeezy to it, did you?” When Kisuke just grinned, Grimmjow almost gagged. “Sweet fuck, do you fuck all the gigais you make or do they all just start out as a sex toys?”

“You really are a bit of a prude, Grimmjow,” Yoruichi said with something like disappointment in her tone.

“If you don’t want it...” Kisuke trailed off, and Grimmjow gave in with a tired sigh. 

It had been an interminably long ten months. Of course he wanted it. It was the only way he would get to see—to fight Kurosaki again, so even if it meant putting on a skin that Kisuke had penetrated or somehow defiled, it would be worth it.

“I want it,” Grimmjow said then hurried, “the gigai, before you get anymore sick ideas.”

“Then rest up tonight. You’ll need your strength for it tomorrow.”

“Fine. But I’m not going to say thank you,” Grimmjow turned and muttered, “you shitty gigai fucker.”

He did manage a few steps away before Yoruichi let out a wolf whistle and he realized that his rear felt rather...drafty. Clapping one hand to his bare ass where his jeans had been carved away and giving the lechers a stiff middle finger with the other hand, he burst into sonido for the trip up the stairs to relative safety as Kisuke warbled along with the chorus of _Pour your sugar on me, I can't get enough, I'm hot, sticky sweet, From my head to my feet, yeah._

Grimmjow would see hell and Hueco Mundo freeze over before he ever let those two pour sugar on him, but he grinned fiercely when he reached the empty storeroom. It would soon be time; he would be able to see Kurosaki and do everything he’d dreamed of doing to him. The fight would be spectacular, he told himself. 

Kurosaki wouldn’t know what hit him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
